The Mire: Tangents, threads and opinions from The Wire
HQ

26|04|2011

The last thing we need is more record lists, right? Well, maybe.
No doubt we suffer from a glut of rock-lists. Glossy consumer mags
use lists of all types as selling points ("you need these in your
life"). When it comes to UK music monthlies, it usually means the
same old rock albums, reinforcing the canon with each iteration.
Books and websites are now adding to list-fatigue: sites divide
lengthy lists-of-the-best-ever into several pages, thus increasing
their click thrus but making for fractured reading (the very
opposite of what a list should do); meanwhile, those godawful
1010 Records To Hear Before You Expire books conflate
musical experience with the dying of the light.

Of course, the idea of a record list is inherently problematic.
It immediately raises questions: records of what type, and limited
in what way? What and whose criteria are we judging by? The very
existence of a historic list presupposes a musical 'record' of some
kind, which rules out the vast majority of music experienced by
homo sapiens since time began.

Yet lists are worth celebrating, especially now. Lists are
rarely about completism. Only a tiny minority of those who read a
record list attempt to collect ’em all. Instead, a list provides a
rough-and-ready survey of how the land might lay, and what
waypoints on the map might be significant at the present time. Like
an old style maps with sketchy outlines of countries and continents
and uncharted waters beyond, they are open to correction by the
user. And like the notion of music genre, the flaws and exceptions
of a list are as important, notable and (crucially) useful as the
inclusions. The very idea of a list of records is an acknowledgment
that we're in a state of constant change.

A select few lists have been crucial in The Wire's
world, and several others have been crucial in setting the agenda
since the internet expanded the music world. The Nurse With
Wound list is still a thing of wonder with over 200 way-out
records (Airway, Brainstorm, Come…) that, contrary to rumour, do
all genuinely exist. Thurston Moore's Free Jazz list for
Grand Royale magazine contained such obscurities – private press
releases, European releases by US exiles, loft sessions – that at
the time I thought it could be some kind of jazz head’s wet
daydream. "Seeing as there’s no “beginning” or “end” to this shit I
have to list as many items as possible," Moore wrote, suggesting
that free jazz, far from dead, was still resonating in global after
shocks. Alan Licht's minimalist top 10 ("I like minimalism because it
ROCKS.") was crucial because it posited minimalism as the
hidden wiring of whole swathes of underground music. His original
list mentions Niblock and Palestine, but in a third instalment for
Volcanic
Tongue (which goes all the way up to eleven) he knitted in
Harry Pussy and Earth to the minimalist pantheon.

Two record lists stood out in the early internet era, and
became, if not bibles, then certainly user's guide to the hidden
depths of record collecting. Kirk DeGiorgio's Hall Of Fame (which
has more or less disappeared from the internet, but can still be
just about browsed
here) was a list of primarily soul, funk, jazz and disco, but
its forensic ear for producers, engineers, session men, arrangers,
songwriters and other unsung heroes meant it elevated David
Axelrod, Arthur Russell and George Duke to visionary status in
their knitting together of black music, white music and everything
in between in the 1970s.

Woebot's
100 Greatest Records Ever, is wonderfully playful despite (or
because of?) its pompous title. His list makes a mockery of the
idea that the album is king, with white label 12"s from Ruff Sqwad,
and places Joni Mitchell and Pere Ubu next to Acen and David
Lewiston as the true geniuses of modern music. Woebot's list is
rough and opinionated, making you alternately snort with derision
and wonder where the hell he found such riches.

Consumer guide record lists can weigh you down, but
a good list should open things up. The lists above are about
sharing the riches. One of my best musical experiences ever was a
week-by-week record swapping session with a close friend, working
the way through our respective top 50 albums. This is what the best
lists do – facilitate an intimate engagement with someone's
world. Despite the proliferation of lists, we need good ones more
than ever.

Comments

Nice post Derek. Shame that KD list is gone,
would have been nice to re-inspect that several years later. As for
this: "|One of my best musical experiences ever was a week-by-week
record swapping session with a close friend, working the way
through our respective top 50 albums." I've been looking for a way
of injecting a little more "meaning" into the clinical exercise
"music sharing" has become - and this is a fantastic idea. Thank
you.

I couldn't agree more. This is why the Wire
is so valuable - God knows it's full of utter shit - as a list of
contemporary music that you can look for on the internet. Obviously
you miss loads but I only know because I haven't missed it, and
besides you catch up eventually.

DASHZERODASH

10|05|2011

The internet certainly changes the way you
approach lists as you can (normally) access the band/song as you
read rather than have it as an aspiration/grail quest as they used
to be. I love being able to hear anything immediately, but miss the
80s/early 90s when you'd write to oddballs from fanzines and trade
tapes. Did anyone come close to getting all the NwW stuff?